The acquisition troll is on her hamster wheel… churning away, wearing an 80’s style sweatband and leg warmers.

She was the one who suggested I go back, alone– the day after the auction previews, to two, separate auctions… and drive back and forth between the two in order to bid on items of questionable value… then run glassy-eyed to my car and drive back to the other auction while psychically-willing them to not have begun bidding on my next thing.

Paul thought that doing this once would cure me forever. But I guess he does not know me at all.

There were three. Or four. Or five. Or fifty-seven things I wanted to bid on. But the problem with auctions is that they can only give you an estimate of when the item will sell, and depending on any number of factors, you could be waiting a while.

Then, if you take two separate auction houses, each running multiple auctions, all with totally unpredictable and variable timetables… You really have yourself a party.

And my favorite type of party is where you are avoiding doing one thing, while thinking about another, while a separate segment of your brain is juggling flaming knives and encouraging you to run around in circles and then drive over to the other party where you will collect tokens of participation which hold no value but are still somehow meaningful.

You can avoid this problem by leaving an absentee bid on your item… But why would you want to miss out on the party?

Besides, I told myself that I am getting an auction education and that it is important that I have the full experience.

It is likely that this is also what meth addicts tell themselves: that they are mastering a skill.

The first item on my timetable was this enamel bin… it’s actually an old bread box. (I explained my enamel-issues in this post.)

This first auction has four separate auctions running at the same time: two inside, two outside.

One of the auctions outside was nice furniture.
The other outside auction seemed to be trash.

The trash auction made ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE to me…There was a large group of people, and they were all really excited about the trash. None of them seemed impatient or weirded out by their peer’s enthusiasm for mungy stuffed animals and plastic cups.

Plus, my expectation that they would auction off each box, and get on with it was wrong. Instead, it was just like there were no rules.

Sometimes they sold four boxes together. Sometimes they sold one dish at a time. After two hours I wanted to bang my head against the asphalt and scream – this is not the best way!

At that point, I considered abandoning my enamel-bin-of-treasure. But the acquisition troll denied the motion. She said – don’t you think you’ve had enough failure in life? We are getting that bin.

I pointed out that more importantly, we did not know what was going on at that other auction 7 miles away, and that was where the really vital item was: the bookcase… The acquisition troll said – you are right. Drive over there and see.
Hurry.
So I did.

In fact, it was SO MUCH FUN… I drove back and forth THREE times.

sold to me, for $180/$217 w/ tax and buyer’s fee

By 2 o’clock in the afternoon, I was numb.

Numb to crowds of people.
Numb to freezing.
Numb to noise.

Numb to considering running off with the attractive neck-tattooed man who was buying all of the Victorian furniture.

I really like neck tattoos. I like them visually, and I like what they say:
• I am comfortable making decisions without thinking things through.
• I might know Jax Teller.

Victory was finally mine in the form of the enamel bin… I paid $12.

I would have hustled right out of there, back to the other auction to bid on the bookcase. EXCEPT that the enamel bin was part of the trash auction and it was auctioned off along with a giant box of canes, some car window/snow scrapers, a couple of tire jacks, some rusty garden tools, and a dish drying rack.

I guess everyone bidding against me wanted the canes or tire jacks because I managed to sell them individually just by saying– does anyone want anything in this box?

I still have two canes, some garden tools, and the dish rack… if anyone is interested.

After holding my own impromptu box-sale, the enamel bin cost me nothing… I even made two dollars. But it ALMOST cost me the bookcase.

By the time I drove back over to the other auction, JUST as I was walking in, I could see that they were AUCTIONING OFF THE BOOKCASE THAT I WANTED.

I started running across the auction floor. Flailing my arms. Like an idiot.

I should explain that this particular auction is the only one I have been to so far where you could actually be confused about what you are bidding on.

Their system involves dragging the item to the middle of the floor… And then moving it progressively towards the loading dock… Even if people are still bidding on it.

Then they bring up the next item, front and center… WHILE THE OTHER ONE IS STILL ACTIVE.

Which is why I was thinking – wow, I am getting a really good deal on this bookcase! Until the guy next to me pointed at the blond, faux-wood, entertainment center being hauled off towards the loading dock… He said– do you know that is what you’re bidding on?

Then I had to flail my arms EXTRA idiotically.

The auctioneer was nice enough to not force me to buy it. Or mock me publicly. But there is nothing quite like standing in front of a large crowd who has just identified you as the dumbest person in the room.

Paul called me right after I won the bookcase… He said– hey, how’s it going?

62 Comments

Oh boy……..I remember your posts where you were unfamiliar with Auctions and now!!!!!

Thankfully you have all the skills and a partner to pull off the latest flight of fancy and somehow the end result is Genius…..lovely…….fits perfectly into your décor and further endears you to all of us ,your friends and family and possibly everyone you meet. There is no way you have the slightest DNA element of Dummy. Magician absolutely……..Dummy? Absolutely not.

You are my shero because you act out my impulsive thinking. I am still giggling. Love that you got the enamel box and the bookcase is to die for. Paul’s reaction is priceless. Thanks for sharing your escapades and the chuckle.

Every time I read one of your blogs I think, “FINALLY, someone who thinks just like ME!” You validate me!!! Ummm, truthfully, we’re probably just victims of severe ADD/ADHD, but what the hell, look how much you get accomplished. TWO auctions at the same time? I’d have done it but never had the guts to admit it to anyone. Oh, and one more thing: NO INTERVENTION! I’m having too much fun reading about your adventures! Soldier on! You too, little troll!

OMG. You know where you said this: “It is likely that this is also what meth addicts tell themselves: that they are mastering a skill.” I have a story for you. And it might be longer than a comment should be, but it’s SO worth it (at least, I think it is).

OK, so. I used to be married to this guy who, it turns out, was a mess. He didn’t work (often) but I worked AND was going to college (in my 30s). During one of his periods of unemployment (after getting fired for stealing AND for buying the company owner’s teenaged son beer — could I even make this up?), his behavior became more and more erratic. So, at one point, he didn’t come home one night. When I woke up in the morning and realized he hadn’t come home, I was like, hmmm. Weird. But I didn’t freak out.

So, off I went to work (at the prosecutor’s office). And then class (law school). I got home around 10. House was empty. Wow. Weird. (If I recall correctly, his cell was going straight to voicemail.) Now I was getting angry/slightly concerned. I wound up dozing, off and on, on the couch, so I would be right there, front and center, when he stumbled in the door. Ohhh, I was locked and loaded, totally ready for this confrontation. Because, clearly, he was having an affair (although I couldn’t imagine what type of woman he could manage to seduce at this point).

Around 6am, he stepped through the door, and I was dozing on the couch. He tried to tiptoe past me. I popped up and was like, “Whoa!! Where are YOU going?” And he was like (I kid you not): “I’m just stopping by to shower and change, someone’s waiting on me. You go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you.” (I’m paraphrasing.) I was like, “WHAT?? You haven’t been home in TWO days and you’re here to get changed?? You’re kidding, right?”

He then copped an attitude and was muttering something about how he was no longer going to live under my thumb, and how I was a control freak (I don’t keep people under my thumb, but I might be a control freak). For some reason (lack of sleep, being overworked, the stress of law school, having a horrible husband, who knows?), I started crying and was blabbering about how I knew he was having an affair.

He was stunned, and immediately softened, and sat next to me, to comfort me and assure me he was not cheating on me. He was like, “Oh my God, how could you think that?? Oh my God…” So I was like (yeah, I know I say “like” a lot), “But what else could be going on when you don’t come home for two days?” And he goes…

“Well, if you really want to know…I’ve been learning how to make meth.”

*pregnant pause*

“You…are…making…meth. You’ve decided to become a ******* meth cook? While I go to work…AT THE PROSECUTOR’S OFFICE? AND AM PREPARING TO BECOME A LAWYER?”

He said, “No, it’s not like that. See?!?! I knew you’d be all judgmental! This is why I don’t tell you things!! No, I’m learning the “science” of it. Like the chemistry behind it. A recipe. Not some pathetic meth lab in a hotel room. This is much more than that.”

Don’t you just love box lots? It takes some serious shady scrounging through the boxes before the early morning bidding to find the prizes, though. You can get great stuff for just a few bucks and then find out that the people bidding against you wanted the stuffed pink poodle or the dozen coat hangers and you can sell them on the spot, keep the thingy you wanted and make money, as you found out. My china, etched stemware, fancy serving bowls and table linens were all gleaned from box lots. I toast my holiday table recalling how cheap it all was and what fun the treasure hunt was, too. Auctions are the mother lode. Love to hear your adventures. Have fun and keep at it.

your blog is an endless source of entertainment to me – if I lived closer I would make you my best friend lol 🙂 p.s. i LOVE the enamel bin, and the bookcase (are you selling the white one with the cake plates?)

OMG we are soul sisters, a country between us, I just know it! I am in Craigslist and Kijiji rehab now, forbidden to bring one more thing through the ‘effing door. So I live through your adventures now. Besides, I’ve aged and can’t haul it like I used to. You GO girl!!!!

The acquisition troll – that cracks me up every time. You need to describe her to a police sketch artist so we can see what she looks like. Love the bookcase & the enamel breadbox. You and the acquisition troll win the gold for the Auction Olympics.

I would normally be censorious about what seems like haphazard acquisition of things, but in light of the fact that that bookcase is AH-MAZING, I am in favor of your continued auction-shopping. If we found items like that at our local auctions, I may just end up with an acquisition troll of my own!

Nice finds!
Oh my, I know EXACTLY all the things you have described here. I get so wound up on auction days that I literally cannot sleep those nights. My mind continuously goes through the day’s events, I recount all that I bought, and I’ve even been known to get out of bed to check my sales list if I can’t reconcile it while lying in bed.

Multi-ring auctions are the worst (except for traveling back & forth from auction houses, lol). You’re right – it’s so much more fun to be there and bid vs the absentee.

Lucky you they didn’t make you take the 1983 stereo system! We’ve all been there, done that. And isn’t it a blast when you sell right after a win and make $$?! I’ve done that too – what a rush (or, second guessing yourself as to why someone else wants it, oh hey, maybe I want it, that would make a really cool collection sort of way).
Rita C at Panoply

I want a cane. A really cool cane, maybe topped with a silver skull, or an eagle, or something else just as splendid. I am getting to the age where I can justify having one, so I can poke my grandkids (and other peoples grandkids) with it when they are unruly.